Do you mean what you say? You should.
Because parents like me, with special needs kids and lots of irons in the fire, are counting on it. We all fail at meaning what we say and saying what we mean. I don’t claim innocence or perfection in this arena – not even a little bit. But I do my best, and I hope you do, too.
Like most people, we don’t want to ask for help; we may be too proud, or too embarrassed, or too independent, or too afraid to show weakness, or what-have-you to ask for the help that we need. But unlike most people, there’s another reason that gnaws at our insides and forces us to keep our traps shut and to put on a brave face.
We know what society believes about disability.
We know what happens to most babies diagnosed in utero with Down syndrome. We’ve heard the faux-compassion language that destroys: burden to society, end suffering, and all the rest that reinforce the message that our children are less than. We don’t want to admit things are hard, because we don’t want people to see our children and decide they aren’t worth it.
When we finally ask for help, we desperately need it.
You may offer help for years before we let down our guard and accept it, but don’t let our hesitancy lull you into thinking that we’ll never accept it. Every time that you make an offer of help – before you ever open your mouth, send that text, write that email, or make that phone call – be sure that you mean it.
Because the day we finally let our guard down, if you don’t follow through, it will crush us.
We’ll never let down our guard again, which may be okay with you if you didn’t intend to go out of your way to help us, anyway. Not much will change for you, though you may wonder why you don’t hear from us as much anymore.
But our guard will stay up with others, too.
Other people, who are more willing and able to do what is asked, will never be asked, because we were hurt too much the first time to risk asking again. We’ll soldier on with our brave faces and circle our wagons and adopt as our mantra that we’re all alone in this fight.
It’s okay if you can’t help us – we know that everyone’s time and resources are in high demand, and in some seasons of life we can give, while in others the well is frustratingly dry. We get it.
But if you’re going to step forward with an offer of help, a pledge not to use the R-word, a promise to call, or anything else in an effort to lighten our load just a tiny bit, make sure there’s a will behind those words.
Photo Courtesy Wim Mulder/Flickr
I couldn’t agree with you more when you said not to make an offer if you don’t mean it. I will never forget after having Reid 9 weeks early by C-section, the doctor didn’t want me driving to Mobile alone for the first 2 weeks. So many people offered to drive me over and said not to hesitate to call for help. (I’m one that only has 2 friends that I can truly call on anytime) So, I came out of my shell and asked for drivers. I was turned down by the first 2 “friends” because they had something else going on. I know this sounds silly and I was very hormonal, but it CRUSHED me. I just cried and cried. From then on, I made sure when I offered help to someone, I FOLLOWED THROUGH…..even if it meant cancelling my original plans. Sorry for the ranting, but your post just touched me and I wanted to share! Happy Thursday! Leanne
In our house, we call people like your two friends “foxhole friends.” 🙂
In my experience, folks are happy to offer (and actually provide) help during a crisis — which is terrific.
But relationships are reciprocal — years and years later, the family of the kid with SN isn’t in crisis, they’re just living their life.
Parents of special little dumplings, like my sister, seem to really, truly believe that because her son’s on the spectrum:
(1) she doesn’t ever need to return calls or reciprocate invitations
(2) it’s cool to demand everyone rearrange plans to suit her special pumpkin’s needs… and cancel at the last minute 10x in a row
(3) others should make efforts to invite/include her son, no matter his he treats others (hitting, destroying stuff, etc).
My kids have several friends who have autism — absolutely lovely kids with whom they have playmates, work on projects, etc. — yet want nothing to do with their Aspie cousin, who is awful. The cousin’s not awful due to autism, he’s awful due to being awful.
I do agree that, in some cases, a lack of help may be parents reaping what they have sown. There are some parents – special needs or no – who believe that their child’s needs and wants should take priority over all others, which isn’t conducive to healthy relationships (now or in adulthood). I can see why someone would be hesitant to offer assistance in that situation, as no one wants to feel someone is taking advantage of them.
Having said that, this post wasn’t about people who don’t offer assistance. It was about people who offer it but aren’t willing to follow through, and about how that affects special needs parents who DON’T expect the world to revolve around them and their children – i.e., parents who are hesitant to ask for help.
I’m happy to hear that you have been fortunate to receive help when you needed. Not everyone is so fortunate, I promise.